


Destiny gives you the strength (to stand your ground)

by wildforce71



Series: Destiny's Found [1]
Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Samurai
Genre: Abuse of Power, Abuse of a Minor, Brainwashing, Emotional neglect, Gen, Illness, Isolation, Lauren sure believes, Mental Torture, but along those lines, childhood story, clan shiba is completely messed up, except sexual, first chapter's not too bad, injuries, not really Stockholm, physical bullying, seriously all the kinds of torture, shit gets real after that though, there is none of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildforce71/pseuds/wildforce71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You waited long enough</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Got it out and now it's time to embrace it</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Show what you're made of</i>
  <br/>
  <i>It's in your hands, your chance to take it...</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Destiny's everything you're made of</i><br/><i>Hiding behind what you're most afraid of</i><br/><i>Destiny gives you the strength to stand your ground</i><br/><i>Your destiny's found</i></p><p> <br/>Lauren spent years training to master the Seal. Jayden spent years training to lead the team. Neither came out unscathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SailorSol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/gifts).



For a long time, Lauren hates her brother.

Her mother shouldn’t have had a second child, but she was a daughter of the Air family and she knew what was expected of Michael Shiba’s wife. Lauren remembers only snatches of her mother’s second pregnancy. She remembers how tired and pale her mother looked, how she wasn’t allowed out of bed, how Lauren wasn’t allowed to disturb her. She remembers Ji moving in and his haphazard attempts to take care of her; he never once managed to brush her hair without pulling at it and hurting her. She remembers hating the tiny life that was stealing her mother from her, piece by piece.

She doesn’t remember her mother’s death, because it happened at the hospital. She doesn’t remember the funeral, because she wasn’t allowed to go. She doesn’t remember her mother’s last words, because they weren’t _goodbye_. She hadn’t seen her mother for several days before she left. They hadn’t realised it was the last time they’d speak.

Her father – or Ji, possibly; her father doesn’t seem very aware of things – has engaged a wet nurse, a girl from the Water clan. (Lauren wonders if she will ever escape from the Families; if every important person in her life will be defined by their element.) Ruth is nice to Lauren, but most of her time is taken up with _him_. Lauren is left with Ji, who does his best but is clearly not used to small children. He takes over Lauren’s training from her father, he takes over cooking and cleaning in the house. Because she knows her father is not himself, Lauren tries not to make any trouble.

Her first day of school, Lauren tells her teacher that she’s an only child.

When she gets home, her father is waiting for her.

“I have to train.” He’s holding _him_. Lauren stares determinedly over her father’s shoulder.

Her father tells her to sit. Lauren sits.

Ji appears, sliding a pillow onto her lap. Her father leans over and eases _him_ onto it. Ji carefully adjusts her arms so that she’s holding him; accustomed to obeying, Lauren maintains the hold.

Her father sits beside her, waiting. Lauren’s arms grow tired, the weight on her legs grows heavier, and eventually she looks down.

It isn’t like in storybooks. She doesn’t fall in love with _him_ as soon as she sees _him_ – partly because _he’s_ just spit up on her. But she does think vaguely that it’s sad that _he’ll_ never know _his_ mother.

Her father smiles gently and takes him away.

Jayden walks and talks early, but for a long time he’ll only do it with Lauren. She teaches him sword fighting moves when no one’s looking and talks about their mother and recruits him to distract Ji so she can sneak extra cookies.

She comes to regret that last one.

She sprains her wrist when she’s six years old. Ji has her sleep downstairs, in the empty room by the garden, so he can keep an eye on her. On the second morning she wakes, puts her feet into her slippers and screams.

Everyone comes running. Jayden is a little behind the others, because he’s developed a habit of falling down when he walks. Lauren is almost sure he’s faking, because he doesn’t do it when they practise, but since her father and Ji don’t know about that she can’t point to it as proof.

Ji carefully picks up her slipper and takes the lizard out into the garden. Her father checks her foot for bites and calms her down. Jayden watches from the corner, eyes wide.

Hurting, embarrassed and upset, Lauren glares at him. “Jayden did it!”

Jayden denies it, loudly and endlessly. Eventually they’re separated. Ji takes Lauren for practise while their father stays with Jayden. Lauren performs as badly as she dares, but where Ji would normally scold her, he only sighs and looks disappointed.

Jayden comes in while she’s eating lunch and, prompted by their father every time he stops, stumbles through a sort of apology; he’s sorry the lizard got in her slipper but he didn’t put it there. Lauren ignores him, eating steadily and then going to her room to do her homework. She ignores the scratching at her door until it stops.

She plans to ignore _him_ forever, but two days later – she’s already forgotten and spoken to _him_ four times – an alarm she’s never heard before goes off. Ji and her father stare at the flashing light, and then at each other, and Lauren doesn’t understand why but she starts to cry. Jayden presses against her, eyes wide, and she wraps an arm around him, holding on tightly.

Their father leaves. Ji seals off the dojo and keeps them both in there for a very long time, long past the time when Jayden is bored and whining. Lauren and Ji take turns distracting him; whenever she’s not with him, Lauren sits in a corner and stares at the door, willing her father to come home.

Someone does eventually come into the house. Jayden’s asleep, curled in Lauren’s lap. Ji quietly promises to come back in a moment and slips out into the living room, closing the doors tightly behind him.

It’s not Ji who comes in, though, it’s a pretty lady, and there’s a little girl with her. Lauren recognises the lady; she’s a friend of their father. She has a long name Lauren’s never been able to pronounce properly.

At her urging Lauren gets Jayden up and takes them all upstairs. She doesn’t much want to leave him alone, and the lady’s little girl is tired, too, so they all end up piled together in her bed, watched over by the lady. Lauren’s sure she won’t sleep, but the next thing she knows it’s morning and her father is waking her.

She’s always known about the Nighlok. Even Jayden can recite the Shiba lineage all the way back to Shiba Hokata, who they call the First Shiba even though he wasn’t, he was part of a very long line. She knows who they are, and she knows what she might some day have to do. But it’s just another bedtime story, no more real than Goldilocks or The Boy who Drew Cats.

Now her father is telling her it’s real. He was out fighting Moogers last night; Moogers always precede a Nighlok attack. It will happen, sometime soon.

“But you’ll win,” she says. They always win, at least for a while.

He tells her that they’ll do their best. He tells her that things will change, at least a little. He tells her that he needs her to be strong and protect Jayden.

Lauren promises.

Things change. Her father’s team moves into the house; two ladies and two men. They’re kind to the children, in the absent way that grown ups often are. They all have their own children – one of the ladies has two – but they never come to the house.

At first everything is tense and scary. Lauren’s kept home from school, and she and Jayden are confined to the grounds. She spends a lot of time keeping Jayden occupied, explaining how important this is, how it’s their family duty. Jayden is quiet and withdrawn a lot.

Nothing happens. Nothing continues to happen.

The team start leaving, one at a time, to visit home. Nothing happens.

Lauren’s birthday passes, then Jayden’s. They are seven and four.

Nothing happens.

The team starts to talk about going home permanently. Everywhere Lauren goes there are two or three of them, muttering about how it was clearly an aberration, that there’s no attack coming, that they should be released to take care of their families. They’re still nice to the children, but there’s an edge to it that Lauren recognises as _resentment_ only in hindsight. She keeps Jayden away from them as much as she can, entertaining him with training and games and her new found skill in paper folding. He likes the cranes, even when they’re lopsided, which they usually are.

Lauren returns to school. Her teacher has a new assistant, and it only takes her twenty minutes to recognise him as a Shiba cousin, probably three generations out. Jayden won’t be starting kindergarten until next year, but the teacher in that class has been replaced by someone from the Wood family.

It’s the first time she’s really thought about what it means to be the Shiba; her father can order this and it’s done, just like that.

Lauren’s birthday passes. Jayden’s birthday passes. They are eight and five. Her father begins to talk with Ji about releasing the team.

The attack comes. It comes to the house.

Lauren huddles with Jayden in the dojo. The gatehouse is burning and there are Moogers everywhere in the grounds; only a hastily laid line of wards is keeping them away from the house. The team is fighting just outside. She can hear the sounds over the noise she’s making to keep Jayden occupied.

Ji is standing in the doorway, watching the fight. He wants to help, she can tell. But they’re in his charge and he won’t go anywhere, not until he knows they’re safe.

He turns abruptly and comes to crouch in front of them, telling her quietly to follow him. Jayden starts to cry. She promises him she’ll be right back, disentangles them and follows Ji out through the kitchen, to the back of the house.

He makes her promise to behave, kisses the top of her head – he’s never done anything like that before, and she starts to panic, but too late, he’s holding her hand and pulling her through the garden to where a man’s waiting, a man on a horse, and she wants to know what’s happening but everything’s moving too fast and suddenly she’s flying through the air and landing on the horse and she doesn’t even have breath to scream for Jayden the way she wants to and the horse is riding away and she can see the flames from the gatehouse, see Ji silhouetted against them, and then she can’t because they’re too far away and she doesn’t know where they are and she wants to go home…

She cries herself to sleep long before they stop riding. She’s faintly, distantly aware that eventually they stop, that someone is talking, but she’s too far gone to register it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the one where things really get bad. Be careful.

Someone smacks her awake. She’s lying, fully dressed, on top of a bed in a bare little room she doesn’t recognise, and there’s sunlight coming through the window.

“Why are you not training?” the man snaps.

“What?” Lauren scrubs at her face. “Where’s Jayden?”

He sniffs. “Jayden is in Ji’s care. You are in mine. Why are you not training?”

“Why should –“

He scowls, kicking the bed. It startles her and she scrambles to her feet but then doesn’t know where to go. “Please…”

“Do not beg! You are Lady Shiba, you do not _beg_.”

Lauren stares at him. “My father is Lord Shiba. I’m not Lady Shiba. I won’t be Lady Shiba for years and years.”

He sighs and mutters to himself in Japanese. “Did they tell you nothing?” he demands.

She starts to cry.

“Do not cry! You are Lady Shiba!”

She can’t stop, though, it’s too much. He scowls again, turning to leave the room, and she hears the lock click.

She can’t stop.

The sunlight has moved all the way around and gone from the window when he comes back. Lauren is huddled in a corner, head aching, throat dry and sore. She should probably be hungry, but she’s just numb.

The man sighs when he sees her. “Stand up, Lady Shiba. Don’t cower.”

She climbs to her feet. “I don’t understand.”

The man - Tanba - lays it all out, clinically, ignoring her questions.

Her father is dead. His team is mostly all right, although the pretty Watanabe lady – Tanba carries a switch, like Ji, but he uses it when she forgets things – has been badly hurt. Jayden is safe with Ji.

She won’t see him again, not ever, until she learns the Seal her father never mastered.

Lauren cries again, then, but since she also obeys Tanba and goes through every kata she knows, he doesn’t seem to care. He makes her go through the katas again, and again, until she’s missing steps from sheer exhaustion. Then he shouts at her and sends her to her room.

The next morning he bursts in to complain that she’s not already up and training. Lauren has never risen this early in her life – Jayden w…is always a late sleeper – and she’s still half asleep as she moves through the katas. Tanba shouts, and uses his switch. Lauren cries again, but she does the katas without a mistake.

“Good,” Tanba says in satisfaction. “Next.”

He stops using the switch on the third day (You won't make it necessary again, will you, my lady? You understand how important it is to learn this?) but he carries it with him, all the time. Lauren learns to do everything with one eye on it, because sometimes he flicks it at her, just enough to sting without really hurting, and if it touches her she's in trouble. (A samurai is always aware of their surroundings!) After the first week, he forbids her to cry (Nighlok feed on misery and suffering. You must deny them anything that might make them stronger.) and tests it over and over again, driving her long past the point where she would have cried (If you give them strength, they will use it to hurt people. Perhaps _your_ people. Perhaps your _brother_. If you wish to protect him, _stop crying!_ ) and punishing her when she fails, and by the end of the first month, she has forgotten how to cry.

She has forgotten how to smile, too, but Tanba doesn't seem to care so much about that.

There are no pictures of Jayden, or her family, or any person in the house. Tanba gets messages, every few months, but he refuses to share them with her. He tells her only that she must work harder, faster, better; that the world will depend on her, her team will depend on her, her _brother_ will depend on her. She works for endless hours each day, but he never seems happy. She never does it right, or quickly enough.

They grow some of their own food, fruits and roots, herbs to use for medicine. In the third month Tanba threatens to only allow her food she's grown herself. He reconsiders when she collapses for the fourth time, but he increases her chores. Lauren doesn't really mind. Working in the garden is almost peaceful, and after the first couple of times she rarely misses any weeds. Tanba's punishment for that is to have her kneel on them, on the gravel path, which is bad enough when it's dandelions but much worse for nettles or thistles. When she gets it right he sniffs and sends her on to the next task.

Every so often – she loses track of time very quickly and Tanba never tells her the day or date – he locks her in her room (For your protection, my lady) and when he lets her out again, the kitchen has been restocked. She doesn't know how it's happening, but it's not her business anyway. She's learning quickly to ignore things that are not her business.

She's never idle long enough to think about it, anyway. Even alone in her room she has work to do, _kanji_ to copy or katas to complete. Tanba has sensors all over the house, including in her room, and he always knows if she hasn't done something she should have, or has done something she shouldn't. After a while, she learns that punishments are lighter if she owns up straight away rather than waiting for him to find out on his own. (Samurai do not lie. Samurai have honor.)

Lauren is accustomed to obeying her teachers. She obeys Tanba.

There's no more school, no more English or history or math. Tanba drills her in _kanji_ , both the old ones they use for symbols and the modern ones. He shouts instructions in Japanese and expects her to keep up. He rattles off long family lines, Shiba and Watanaba and the others, and the allies, and she has to recite them fully on demand. It gets confusing very quickly as they cross and mesh.

She writes endless pages of _kanji_ , holding her power in check all the time so that nothing happens. She learns Japanese through trial and error. She recites the family lines and the allies.

Tanba starts her translating old histories.

The first time he deliberately hurts her, outside of punishment, she almost fights back.

“How do you expect to win a fight if you cannot work through pain?” he demands. “Do you expect the Nighlok will simply give up when faced with you? If you wish to give up now and allow Jayden to fight instead…”

“No,” she interrupts him. “I’ll do it.”

“Be certain. I do not wish to waste my time with you. If we begin this, we go on until I am satisfied.”

“I’ll do it,” she repeats. She doesn’t meet his eyes – she’s learned that lesson – but she keeps her chin up.

“Good. Then we begin.”

The symbol he uses makes it feel as though she’s being stabbed. Every time she falters he shouts at her – “No misery! No pain! Fight _through_!” – and the sparring goes on forever, never ending. She is not crying by the end of it; when Tanba lifts the symbol and orders her to continue practising she nods obediently, lifts her _shinai_ and begins practising.

Tanba knows many symbols. He rarely uses the same one twice. He’s very inventive. Lauren never does figure out the one that hits her every time she stops moving, keeping her awake.

It keeps her awake for three days. Tanba gives her extra tasks, and she practises to keep herself moving. It gets harder and harder to do anything, harder to remember what she should be doing; she finds herself staring at a page of _kanji_ with no idea which way she’s translating them, or stopped in the middle of a kata, unable to remember the next move.

On the fourth day, she drops a plate and watches it shatter on the floor.

Tanba sighs, rolling his eyes. “Let us hope that the Nighlok are kind enough to allow you plenty of sleep, as you will clearly be unable to focus otherwise. Go and sleep. I will deal with you tomorrow.”

Lauren stares at him, unable to parse the words.

“Bed!” he shouts, pushing her away.

Lauren goes to her room, but it takes her a while to remember to lie down, and longer to fall asleep; her body is expecting the pain from the symbol. Eventually sheer exhaustion takes over and she falls asleep without realising it.

She sleeps for more than a day and wakes starving and disoriented. Tanba is working in the garden when she stumbles out; she hasn’t stopped to eat anything, unsure of what’s going on.

“My lady deigns to grace me with her presence,” Tanba says without looking up.

“I’m sorry,” Lauren says automatically, though she still doesn’t know what’s happening.

“ ‘Sorry’ will not help to protect your brother, or your team, or the world. I thought that you wanted this training, but if that’s not true…”

“I want the training. Please, Tanba. I want to do better.”

Tanba sighs, sitting back on his heels. “You say you want it, but I have to keep correcting you.”

“I’m trying –“

“Try harder,” he snaps. “Otherwise we are just wasting our time.”

“Yes, Tanba,” she says softly, lowering her eyes.

He sighs deeply, rising to his feet. “Do you even remember breaking a plate yesterday?”

She looks at him helplessly.

“Of course not, why would you pay attention to such a thing. Close your eyes and do not move.”

Lauren obeys, but she’s not expecting the whip strike and it makes her jolt, crying out. Tanba sighs in exasperation. “Can you not even take your correction, _my lady_?” and in his mouth, the title is dirty.

“I’m sorr –“

“I require rope.”

Lauren stares at him. He looks patiently back at her.

She turns, slowly, to go to the small garden shed to look for rope.

“Don’t move!” he snaps, and she freezes. “I require rope.” And he’s holding a paint brush when she looks at him.

It takes four tries before she produces a rope that satisfies him. Tanba walks her to a tree and ties her in place, unable to move. “You _will_ learn to take this unmoving,” he tells her. “But for today, this will be enough.”

“Thank you,” she mumbles, because it’s expected.

“Since you don’t have to concentrate on staying still, you can concentrate on staying silent. It may be that you will have to stay undetected while injured. Any noise that you make will increase your punishment. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. I will release you when your time is up.”

He sets the symbol and walks away.

Lauren learns what he means the first time she whimpers; the methodical strikes increase in strength. It gets harder and harder to keep her silence.

When he releases her, some uncountable time later, he hands her a shinai. Lauren stares at it, uncomprehending. How can -?

But her only injury is the rope burn on her wrists. The whipping left no marks, only lingering pain. She’s perfectly able.

She takes the shinai and starts her katas.

Tying her with her own rope becomes his favourite punishment. It isn’t always whipping. He keeps things varied, so that she never knows what’s coming. (The Nighlok will not be predictable; you must be prepared to undergo anything.) Keeping her awake becomes a favoured training technique; it becomes unusual for her to sleep more than one night in three, though she never manages to get past three days without her performance degrading. (The Nighlok may attack for long periods of time, you must be able to keep going!)

He keeps her awake for three days and then introduces a new training method; his symbol blinds her completely. (You may have to fight at night, or inside buildings or caves where there is little light. You must learn to rely on other senses!) She comes out of that training session more bruised and sore than she’s ever been, but she comes out of it, and she comes out of it every time he tries it.

So after a while, he deafens her as well. (You never know what abilities a Nighlok may have. You must be prepared to face anything!)

That one defeats her. Unable to see, unable to hear, so tired she can barely keep herself upright, she’s no match for Tanba. He breaks her arm and dislocates her shoulder and leaves her like that until the next morning; she falls asleep at some point from exhaustion and pain and wakes when he smacks her with his switch, still blind and deaf and in pain.

She hasn’t cried. She doesn’t cry. He resets her shoulder without warning, pulls her arm back into place before healing it, and she doesn’t cry. He lets her see but leaves her deaf, and his switch hits her half a dozen times that day, earning her more punishments.

She hates the deafness. Blind she can deal with; she knows the house and grounds without looking and she can hear enough to compensate. Deafness is crippling for her. She can’t deal with it at all.

Tanba realises, and keeps using it, over and over. She thinks it might drive her mad.

She doesn’t complain. If this is what it takes to protect Jayden, she’ll do it. Her team is abstract; the world even more so. She only knows half a dozen people, after all. But Jayden is etched into her memory. Whatever it takes to protect him, she’ll do.

They start using symbols properly. Tanba drives her over and over, using symbols until the power rush makes her light headed, and then pushing harder. When she has trouble, he goes back to purely physical training, but without the outlet she’s now accustomed to her power flares and surges unpredictably, forcing its way out when she’s not expecting it. She burns the bamboo down three times before Tanba switches back to symbol training. It wears her out far more than physical training, so of course he combines it with sleep deprivation to push her as hard as he can.

She learns the symbols to stop him from making her deaf, and to reverse it when he does it.

She never uses them. This is what needs to happen. It will be worth it, sometime. When she meets Jayden again, and they lead the team to victory over Xandred.

Tanba hands her a scroll one day. “This is the Sealing Symbol,” he tells her. “This may be the most important thing you will learn here. And you will learn it alone.”

“What?” Lauren blinks at him. She’s not sure she knows how to learn on her own anymore. Tanba tells her what to do and she does it, that’s how it works.

“I am not permitted to use it.” He looks disgusted. “My power is not strong enough. Even to attempt it would burn me up.”

She stares at the sealed scroll. “Am I strong enough?”

“We will see.”

The first attempt almost knocks her into a coma.

Tanba sighs and shakes his head when she manages to leave her bed, almost two days later. “More training,” he says, disappointment clear in his voice. “I thought you would at least be able to try by now.”

“I’m sorry,” she says automatically.

She is eleven years old. Probably. She has no idea how long she has been with him now.

He starts giving her symbols that should only have momentary effects – flare, or noise, or the like – and having her hold them for longer and longer periods. It strains her badly, holding on to effects that should be over quickly, but it does increase her power, slowly. He makes her learn symbols traditionally used by the other Families, makes her practise them until they come as naturally as the Shiba symbols. Soon she can cast lightning or whip up a wind or a water spout. Paradoxically, the forest symbols are the hardest for her to manage. She keeps overcompensating and setting the plants on fire.

Tanba drives her until she can do it flawlessly. (Your team may be injured, these symbols may be needed! It is your duty to know them!) Soon she can switch seamlessly from one to another, soaking her target and then hitting it with lightning, tangling it in foliage and setting it on fire. She can direct vines like whips and blow one target over without touching the ones on either side of it.

Tanba tries having her restrain herself with vines for her punishments, but since they’re under her control she can’t keep from releasing herself. That doesn’t please Tanba, of course. He seems to think she’s doing it on purpose, when it’s actually completely involuntary. She dreads the days he tries it, because when she releases herself he doubles the punishment.

Sometimes he tries leaving her completely unrestrained, but he generally blinds and deafens her as well, and she can’t keep still under those conditions. Overtrained, she supposes; her instinct is to fight back. Tanba acts as though she’s purposely defying him, even though it’s his training that has left her this way.

Still the Symbol eludes her. She can draw it, now, she’s working on making it effortless though it’s by far the most complicated Symbol she’s ever seen. But trying to direct any amount of power at it drains her terrifyingly quickly. Tanba has her try, every so often, and then complains bitterly when she needs time to recover. She learns to hide her weakness from him. It doesn’t work forever, but as long as they’re not in a sleep deprivation cycle, she can usually manage for long enough to catch up.

She works early in the morning and late at night, after he’s gone to bed and before he wakes up. Training is better than nightmares, anyway. She dreams of Jayden, dead because she didn't work hard enough, train hard enough, learn enough to be effective. She dreams of the night Ji took her from the House, but in the dreams he hands her over to Master Xandred because she's useless, watching impassively as she sinks into the Sanzu. She dreams of walking through an empty, destroyed world, knowing that it's all her fault, that the Nighlok brought everything to ruin through her weakness.

Training is always better than that.

It doesn't seem strange to her, that she only ever dreams of horrors.

There are symbols all over the house, inside and out, shimmering everywhere in a complex web of interactions. Whatever else Tanba is, he is very skilled at layering wards. As her power increases, as she can see the symbols more clearly, Lauren sometimes tries to mentally unravel them, to understand why they work as they do. They always defeat her. They're too complex for her to keep in her mind.

She tries to duplicate them on a small scale one afternoon, just around her bed. Just to see if she can. She doesn't plan to leave them up. But this is an entirely different application of symbols, and she's curious.

Tanba storms in barely a minute after she begins, smashing through her carefully drawn chain of symbols. The backlash sends her flying, thumping into the wall hard enough to make everything spin for a moment.

When she focuses again Tanba is crouched in front of her, looking furious. "What are you thinking," he says flatly. "Do you wish to call the Nighlok here? If you are so tired of making an effort, Lauren, I wish you would tell me first so that I can warn Ji that Jayden will have to carry this on his own."

"I wasn't trying – I didn't touch the house wards! I was just playing!"

"They are all in balance, you stupid girl! Your meddling would have collapsed the house wards in an explosion of Power that would have reached all the way to the Sanzu! You will draw Xandred down on your brother's head!"

Lauren is trembling, shaking her head. Tanba prods and pushes until she gets to her feet, and then ushers her out into the garden. "Hands out," he snaps, "palms up."

Lauren obeys, steeling herself not to flinch. She's surprised when he simply lays the switch across her hands, adjusting slightly to make sure her hands are parallel and the switch is balanced. Then he turns to leave.

"Tanba?" she calls, confused.

"I must make sure you have caused no harm. Hold the switch, exactly like that, and do not move until I return." He vanishes into the house.

She's standing in full sunshine. After a while she becomes uncomfortable. She's sweating; her clothes and hair are sticking to her. Pain is building steadily in her arms and shoulders. She longs to lower the switch and readjust, but she doesn't dare. The orders were very clear.

She holds it for just over an hour, measured by her own heartbeat, before one hand spasms and the switch falls; she watches it tumble, as though in slow motion, to rest near her feet. And, because the orders were very clear, she stands with her arms out until Tanba returns. It's a little better, because she can wriggle her fingers and turn her wrists to try and ward off the numbness in her hands, but after a while she can't keep her arms up no matter what she does. By concentrating intently, she manages to keep one out at a time; the other hangs limply by her side. Her shoulders scream with pain every time she moves them.

She does not cry.

The sun passes overhead, sets, and rises again before Tanba comes to her. Her arms are shaking wildly by then; she simply can't hold them still no matter what she does.

He scowls. "I had planned to begin teaching you how to construct wards, but you are clearly not capable of drawing them now. Go and practise your archery."

She's not sure she's capable of practising her archery, either, but he hasn't punished her and she doesn't plan to give him a reason to. She bows, as best she can, and hurries away, arms pulled in tightly against her chest to try and calm them.

She's not capable of practising her archery.

Tanba sends her on runs around the garden (You can do that without your arms! Move, Lauren!) and scowls at her every time she passes him, because without her arms for balance she's slower than normal. (Let us hope the Nighlok never injure your arms! What will you do?) Lauren grits her teeth, pumps her arms as best she can, and runs.

He does not allow her any healing, nor any painkillers. It does not occur to her to heal herself, though she knows the symbols by heart. She binds her arms as best she can while she sleeps and resumes training the next day.

Lauren falls ill with a flu.

She has no idea how she catches it. She hasn't seen anyone but Tanba in years. But she does catch it. She spends two days doing progressively worse at her training, despite all her best efforts, and on the third day Tanba's shouts dissolve into mush and she faints.

When she wakes, she automatically thinks days, but she doesn't know why. She is alone, but both door and window of her room are open. She has been changed out of her practise gear into a loose nightgown. She reaches for the glass on the floor by her bed and is shocked to find her arm so heavy she can barely move it. A new punishment?

It takes her far too long to change her clothes, leave the room and reach the garden. Tanba is cleaning weapons on the bench near the gate; Lauren eyes the stretch of gravel between them in despair, but she can't shout at him from here. Lady Shiba does not shout.

Halfway to him she is certain she won't make it. It's too far, and she's too tired. She's never felt so completely drained of energy.

Tanba looks up to watch her.

Lauren forces herself across the gravel to his bench. She doesn't sit; she doesn't dare. "Good m - afternoon, Tanba."

"Afternoon." His face is unreadable. "Do you know how long you have been in bed?"

"No, Tanba."

"Four days. You have missed more than half a week's training. We will need to make it up."

"Yes, Tanba," though she wants nothing more than to lie down right there on the gravel and never get up again.

He stands, brushing himself off absently. "Bring those," he says, gesturing to the katana and tanto on the bench, and starts towards the house.

Lauren very nearly gives up. She is impossibly heavy on her own; carrying those as well will take forever. And Tanba is waiting.

Tanba is waiting. She carefully gathers the blades together and slowly, painfully, somehow, gets herself back to the house, where she puts them away and then tracks Tanba down in the kitchen.

He's staring at a cloth bundle, the type he uses to steep teas. "There is the matter of your punishment."

"Punishment," she repeats, heart racing. She's fairly sure she was ill the last few days, not slacking off, but if Tanba thinks...

"When I attempted to bring you nourishment, to help you, you told me it tasted like excrement. And then you used words I will not repeat, words most unbecoming of Lady Shiba."

"I don't remember that," she says helplessly. "I'm sorry."

"Mmm. You had a fever. Still, for you to say such things, you must believe them in some measure. So, since you do not appreciate the taste of my cooking, I will give you something else to taste."

She stares at the bundle, afraid to look at him.

He picks up the bundle and holds it out to her. She takes it uncertainly. It feels oddly greasy. “What should…”

“Put it in your mouth.”

She meets his eyes in surprise. “Tanba…”

“ _Put_ it in your _mouth_.”

He has never gagged her. Not with symbols, not by any physical means. She is Lady Shiba, and to stop her voice is tantamount to treason.

But he is Tanba.

She works it into her mouth.

At first she’s not sure what’s supposed to happen; she feels faintly ridiculous, standing here with the tails of the bundle hanging out of her mouth. Then she realises it tastes odd. Then she realises it’s foaming.

 _Soap_.

He drives her through two katas. The bundle contains the soap so that she can’t swallow it, but the taste is not blocked and there’s foam in her mouth. When he finally allows her to take it out, he drives her straight into more katas, refusing to even allow her to wash out her mouth.

She wants to throw up.

She doesn’t throw up.

For two days, everything she eats tastes of soap and everything she drinks foams in her mouth.

She’s never before been sorry that Tanba does not withhold food as punishment. Their food is plain, but there is always plenty, and he does not allow her to scrimp for any reason. Not even now.

After a while she realises that he has found a symbol to reproduce the effects. He turns it on and off as he pleases. (There will be times you will not want to eat, but you must always keep yourself fed so that you are ready to fight.) Meals become a lesson in endurance. Lauren learns not to show any reaction no matter what she's tasting. Praising Tanba's cooking on days when it tastes the worst makes her feel just a little better.

One morning Tanba gives her a neatly printed list of symbols. "Learn these," he orders. "When I tell you to, you will reproduce them without mistake or hesitation, and you will power them."

"May I ask what their purpose is?" she asks, already scanning through the list. Something about transference>, and protection>, but he has layered them as usual and she quickly loses track.

"You may ask." He turns on his heel and leaves her with the list.

It's almost three days later when he tells her "Draw the symbols."

"What will they do, Tanba?" she asks. She has parsed a little more of them, and she doesn't like what she's read.

Tanba sighs as though this is a terrible inconvenience. "They will protect you."

"Protect me how?"

"Your protection is my business, is it not? If you feel I am not performing as I should, we can return to Panorama City right now. I will attempt to find someone else who will agree to serve as your tutor."

"I'm only curious," she says quietly, dropping her gaze.

"Do you trust my ability with symbols?"

"Yes." That has never been in doubt.

"Then draw the symbols. Don't power them until they are all drawn, or you will drain yourself before you finish."

Lauren almost groans. Powered symbols will drain her more quickly, but unpowered are far harder to hold in her mind. Still, she knows the list by heart now. Hopefully it will be enough. She begins.

Three symbols in Tanba swipes a hand through the symbols, dispersing them like smoke. "Again," he says, with no explanation of what she got wrong. Lauren obediently starts again.

"Again."

"Again."

On the fourth try it finally meets his approval. Lauren holds the unpowered symbols in place as he studies them carefully.

"Adequate," he says finally. "Now. Power them, and do not let them slip."

Lauren pushes power into them, all at the same time, holding them firmly as they buck. Something is happening, the air around her getting brighter, closing in. Tanba told her not to let them slip; Lauren does not let them slip.

Something incredibly heavy drives her to her knees. She can barely breathe, head hanging low, crushing weight on her shoulders, but she keeps those symbols in place. Tanba is shouting; she can’t hear him over the rush of blood in her ears.

The symbols _click_ and she lets them go with a gasp. She can still feel them, a little, but they’ve slid in among the others now and she doesn’t have to concentrate on them.

Tanba is shouting at her to stand up.

It takes her three tries.

“What has happened?” she asks.

For once, he answers her straight out. “The wards around this place are now supported by your power, not mine.”

Lauren frowns. “That will make it harder for me to use my power, if some of it is going to supporting the wards.”

“At this point, it makes little difference,” he says dismissively. Turning, he touches the wall, tracing a ward symbol.

Lauren shivers at the strange feeling, deep in her core. “Tanba…”

“It will settle, as you grow used to it.” He sighs. “Stand _straight_ , Lauren. You are Lady Shiba.”

The wards feel as though they will drive her straight into the ground.

Lauren straightens her shoulders.

There is a pond on the property - which is bigger than Lauren had ever realised. She can feel it, now; she can close her eyes and see it painted on the insides of her eyelids. Tanba tells her that will settle; she will not always be so intensely aware of everything around her. She hopes that’s true. She’s already earned half a dozen punishments for lack of attention.

She hadn't been aware of the pond before; it's far from the house, almost outside the boundaries of the wards. There are frogs in it. She can feel them hop around if she concentrates. How did Tanba ever get anything done? Are the wards on the Shiba House this complex? Ji must be carrying them, Jayden won’t be able yet…

She finds herself down at the pond on the fifth day after taking the wards. Tanba was right, they’re settling a little, but still so loud in her head, so clear behind her eyes. She watches the pond for a few minutes, matching the frogs she can see to the fireworks in her head. It’s really too big to be called a pond, but too small to be a lake, wide and long and deep. She hunkers on the edge, studying the deep blue water.

“What are you doing?” Tanba demands from behind her.

It’s an effort to pull her attention from the pond to look at him. “I didn’t know we had this. I would have liked to meditate here.”

“No meditation until the wards settle,” he snaps, “you may become lost in a loop and never pull yourself out.”

“Yes, Tanba,” she says obediently, rising to her feet. She can’t keep from glancing wistfully at the pond.

“That does not mean you cannot be here,” Tanba says, surprising her.

“I don’t understand?”

He looks at the pond. “Have you been taught to swim?”

Lauren instinctively takes a step back, away from him. “No, Tanba.”

“Perhaps you should be. Stop,” he adds, and she stops backing away.

“Is it necessary?”

He stares at her. “Is any of this necessary? Return to the house and change into something more appropriate.”

“I don’t own swimming clothes.”

“Anything that is not loose will do. You have three minutes.”

“But…”

He raises an eyebrow and she goes.

She finds a t-shirt and trousers and makes it back to the pond. Tanba sighs. “Almost five minutes, Lauren. Can you not believe that I am trying to teach you things you need to know?”

“Yes, Tanba. I’m sorry, Tanba.”

He leads her around the edge of the pond to an area where the water is deep. Lauren looks at it uncertainly. “I don’t…”

He pushes her in.

The cold takes her breath away and makes all her muscles seize. With a desperate effort she kicks for the surface, gasping in a breath. She is already out of reach of the bank. “Swim!” Tanba is shouting. “Kick!”

She should heat the water – there has to be a way, a symbol – but it’s taking all her concentration to stay afloat. She thrashes through the water, away from Tanba, towards the shallower parts of the pond.

Something’s tugging at the wards, but she can’t tell what, not until she reaches an area where she can put her feet down. There’s a barrier blocking her from going any further.

“Swim!” Tanba shouts from behind her.

She struggles for a while, until he gives up and allows her out. “Let us hope that you face no aquatic Nighlok,” he says with a sniff.

“Nighlok can’t tolerate our water,” Lauren says, around chattering teeth.

“They will tolerate a great deal to bring you down,” he says sharply, “and at this rate they will not have to try much. Go back to the grounds. A round of katas will warm you up.”

Lauren slogs back to the house and begins her katas. She is slow and clumsy, weighted down by fatigue and wet clothing; Tanba shouts and corrects her and punishes her.

The next day they do it all over again.

Lauren is twelve years old. She has been with Tanba for four years. In eight years time she will walk through the grounds of a temple to see her brother for the first time in twelve years. In eight years time, she will face Xandred, and fail. In eight years time, she will watch as her brother performs the task she will have spent most of her life preparing for.

Today she is twelve, and she trains.


	3. Chapter 3

Jayden cries for most of a day when Lauren and his father leave.

Ji carries him around for all that time. The others – his father’s friends – try to take him, but he screams until he nearly passes out the first time, and after that they bring food and drink and clean him up as best they can without trying to separate them. Sometimes the blonde lady holds out her hands to him. Jayden turns his face away.

And then they’re gone, his father’s friends, and it’s just Jayden and Ji. And his father is gone. And Lauren is gone. And it’s just them.

Ji sits him down on the third day and explains that Jayden’s father is gone forever, but that Lauren will come back some day. “But it is very important that everyone thinks she’s gone forever,” he says. “So we will treat you as though you are Lord Shiba, and you must never speak to anyone about Lauren. If the Nighlok learn that she lives, they will certainly try to kill her. Do you understand?”

Jayden swallows his tears and nods. He is five years old.

They go to the funeral a few days later. His father’s friends are there, apart from one of the ladies. Jayden is the only child present. He stands at the grave and half listens as people talk to Ji over his head, nodding solemnly whenever they bend down to talk to him. Ji grips his shoulders the whole way through. Jayden doesn’t ask to be picked up. He already knows Ji would refuse.

(You are Lord Shiba now. You must be seen to be strong.)

Later, at home, he cries and Ji holds him. It is the last time either of them will do that. Lord Shiba must be strong.

Ji clears out Lauren’s room. He tidies away all of her things from throughout the house. He takes down all the pictures. Nothing is left of her.

(In six months, Jayden will find a paper crane pressed between the pages of a book, a crane with lopsided wings. He will hide it from Ji, and he will keep it as a reminder that his sister was real.)

He should have started kindergarten this year. Lauren had promised to show him where everything was. But Ji does not mention it, so Jayden doesn’t either. He doesn’t talk much at all nowadays, except to answer direct questions.

The training that seemed like fun before is now far more serious. Lauren always made it seem like a game when they did it together. Now Ji pushes Jayden harder, for longer, demanding perfection every time. He’s unforgiving in practise, but afterwards he checks to make sure Jayden isn’t injured, makes sure he eats and drinks, and allows him time to relax before bed.

Jayden sleeps very badly for a time, waking terrified from dreams he never remembers. He doesn’t cry out – he never cries out – but Ji can clearly tell that something is wrong, because he eases off training for a while. When that doesn’t help, he moves them both into the big room downstairs. He never comments on the way Jayden wakes, although he’s clearly awake; but knowing that he’s there, hearing him breathe, helps Jayden to relax and go back to sleep after each nightmare.

They don’t leave the grounds of the house. Every week a van comes from the town with supplies; Jayden is not, quite, forbidden from being in the front garden when it comes, but he usually stays away anyway. No one comes onto the grounds; they unload the bags at the gate and Ji carries them inside. Jayden sometimes helps to put them away. The treats they used to enjoy are gone; everything they eat now is healthy in one way or another. Jayden doesn’t complain.

Ji gives him chores to do. “A Samurai is disciplined in all things, Jayden. Your clothes, your home and especially your weapons are reflections of you. They must be clean and tidy at all times.” Jayden nods and cleans his weapons and sweeps the yard and tidies his room. He doesn’t own much now. Ji put his toys away when he turned six.

He’s six years old. Sometimes he misbehaves. Ji mostly punishes him by ignoring him except to give instructions. Jayden is usually quiet, but he can’t bear the silence that settles on the house or the complete lack of any encouragement. It rarely takes him long to apologise for whatever it was he did. As he grows older Ji gives him extra chores or katas instead. Jayden is happier with those. It feels like a way to actually earn Ji’s forgiveness and absolution.

Jayden turns seven. Ji gives him a new _shinai_ and starts teaching him symbols.

Jayden recognises English letters, mostly, but he can’t read. He knows his numbers, but he can’t do anything close to math. Ji teaches him just enough that he can manage day to day, enough that he can read notes from Ji when they’re necessary. He tries to go further, teach him to read properly, but Jayden can't grasp the words, keeps getting his letters mixed up and backwards. He learns a few words by heart, by the way they look, enough for Ji's notes to work. Math isn't much better; after a lot of work, he can do simple sums in his head, but when he writes them down he loses track of them and forgets how to do it.

He does much better at the symbols, finding it easier to remember the shapes and relate them to their meanings. Ji is careful to make sure he knows that these are old kanji and he won’t be able to read modern Japanese, though they’ll be learning that later.

For now Jayden is not allowed to put any power in his symbols. He just draws them out, over and over and over again, until he can do it without thinking.

He’s in the yard one morning, practising on the dummy, when someone knocks on the gate. It startles him enough that he drops his shinai. Apart from the grocery deliveries, no one ever comes here, and they’ve had the delivery for this week.

Ji tells him to keep practising and goes to the gate. Jayden obeys, but he moves around the dummy until he can see what’s going on.

It’s some kind of salesman. Jayden’s not sure how he even saw the House – he shouldn’t be able to – but he’s not very interested. Ji will deal with it.

A young boy peers around the edge of the gate, watching him with wide eyes.

Jayden hasn’t seen another child since La – since his father died. He stops practising and goes to join Ji at the gate.

“You have a son!” the salesman says. “A fine boy, sir.”

Ji smiles tightly but doesn’t correct him. “Mr Garcia, we don’t want any fish today. Thank you anyway.”

“Perhaps another day? Freshest fish you will find in town!”

“ _Psst._ ”

Jayden looks across at the boy in surprise. He grins happily. “ _Me llamo Antonio._ ”

“English, _mi rei_ ,” Mr Garcia says, “the young master may not speak Spanish.”

The boy is still grinning, utterly unrepentant. Jayden is fascinated despite himself.

“I’m Antonio,” he says happily.

“Jayden.”

“Ah, children, they make friends so easily, eh?” Mr Garcia says cheerfully.

“Jayden, go inside,” Ji says, touching Jayden’s shoulder to guide him. “Mr Garcia, we don’t want any fish today. We won’t want any fish tomorrow. You shouldn’t bother coming out this way again. It’s so far from town.”

“Ah, but a nice walk in beautiful surroundings!” Mr Garcia says, unruffled. “We will maybe try again another day, sir. Thank you for your valuable time.” He bows.

“Bye Jayden, see you again!” Antonio shouts, waving wildly.

Jayden returns the wave without quite planning it. Ji sighs, shooing him inside and closing the gate.

They don’t come back the next day, or the day after, or the day after that.

Jayden has stopped wondering if they will. Perhaps they forgot the way once they’d gone. He thinks the wards can do that.

He’s practising in the yard one morning a few days later, he doesn’t know how many, he’s not counting (six) when he hears _pssst!_ Frowning, he looks around.

Antonio has managed to climb the wall.

That really shouldn’t be possible. Even if he can see the walls – which he shouldn’t be able to – the wards keep them impregnable. There shouldn’t be any way for him to climb up like that. It just shouldn’t happen.

Antonio’s perched on the top, grinning at him.

“You shouldn’t be up there,” he manages. “If Ji sees you…”

“He won’t,” Antonio says dismissively, leaning forward to peer down. “It’s higher on this side. That’s not fair.”

“Can you…? Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Me? Hurt myself?” Antonio grins at him, flips around and scrambles down the inside of the wall somehow. Jayden flinches, but Antonio hits the ground without any apparent injury and beams triumphantly at him. “See?”

“Why are you here?”

“I thought you might like to play. My dad doesn’t think anyone ever comes up here. I thought you might be lonely.”

 _Lonely._ Jayden turns that over in his mind, considering it. Is he lonely? He has Ji, still. Maybe the house is sometimes very quiet, but…

“What are you doing?” Antonio has picked up his discarded _shinai_ and is swinging it around ineptly. “What is this?”

“You don’t hold it like that!” Jayden takes it away from him – he’s holding it as though he’s playing that sport with the little ball, where people run around the square – and shows him the proper way to hold it.

“Like a sword!” Antonio says excitedly.

“It’s a practise sword. For learning how to do the moves right before you get a real sword.”

“You get a sword?” Antonio breathes, so awed that Jayden can’t help grinning.

“Yes. I’m a Samurai.”

“What’s a Samurai?”

Jayden flounders a little. He’s never met anyone who didn’t know. “Like a knight, but from Japan,” he manages finally. It’s not quite accurate, he knows, but it will do for now.

“Awesome! Do you get a horse? And a sword – you said sword – do you get to fight dragons, and protect ladies?”

 _Protect ladies.  
_   
Jayden can feel his smile slip away. Antonio must see it as well; he suddenly looks panicked. “Don’t, no, what’s – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“I have to practise,” Jayden says stiffly.

“What did I say?” Antonio protests. Jayden turns away, goes back to the practise dummy and starts beating on it.

Antonio scowls and plops down to sit on the ground. “I’m not leaving till you talk to me,” he announces.

Jayden’s rhythm falters. “If Mentor sees you, there’ll be big trouble.”

“Better talk to me, then.”

“I have to practise!”

“You can practise and talk to me. What are you doing now?”

Jayden sighs, but he starts describing his moves to Antonio. Antonio nods along, getting up and wandering closer, and when Jayden stops for breath he asks “Can I try?”

His form’s terrible, but at least he’s enthusiastic. Jayden starts laughing somewhere around the time he gets the tip of the _shinai_ caught in his trousers and almost whips them off. Antonio just grins and tries again.

Eventually Jayden calls a halt. “Ji will be out soon to call me in.”

"Why do you call him _Mentor_ and _Ji_ all the time?"

"What should I call him?"

"Dad?"

Jayden scowls. "Ji's not my father, he's my guardian. My father's dead."

"Oh." Antonio shifts a little. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Jayden says stiffly. "You really should go, before he comes out."

“I’ll come back,” Antonio promises. “I don’t know when, though. I have to help my _papi_ out a lot.”

Jayden nods. “That’s ok. It’s important to help your family.” His smile threatens to slip again, but he holds it this time.

Antonio studies him for a moment and then grins, wider than ever. “It’s ok though. We’ll always be friends, no matter where we are.”

Jayden blinks. “Are we – friends?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course we are!” Antonio thumps him on the arm. “Now c’mon, give me a boost so I can get out.”

It’s a struggle, but they get him over the wall before Ji comes out to start Jayden’s lesson.

The visits are irregular, which somehow makes it more fun. Jayden’s never sure when Antonio will come, or how long he’ll be able to stay for. A couple of times he’s seen Antonio peeping over the wall while Ji is instructing him. He never stays, those times.

The grocery delivery doesn’t come.

Jayden diligently practises his symbols, listening to Ji complain on the phone. Eventually he hangs up, turning to Jayden with a sigh. “Wash your hands and face, Jayden, and fetch your coat. We’re going into town. The delivery driver is ill, so we need to get our own groceries this week.”

Jayden blinks, at first unable to understand and then suddenly frightened. He hasn’t left the grounds in years. Not since that very first attack, the one that started the War that killed his father.

“I can’t leave you here,” Ji tells him. “The wards won’t be as strong when I’m not here. You’re safer with me. It will be all right. I promise.”

Jayden nods numbly and goes to tidy away his work and get ready.

They walk into town. It’s further than Jayden’s used to walking; he can hear Ji murmuring about ‘endurance training’ as they go. He stumps along without asking for help or a break.

They don’t go to the grocery store. Ji takes them to a market, instead, where they wander around stalls. Jayden is aware that Ji is doing business at some of them, but he’s overwhelmed with smells and sights and sounds, and _so many people._ The House has never been this full, even when his father’s friends were all there.

At first it’s exciting; something new everywhere he looks. Then it gets a little overwhelming. Then it’s scary, so many people around, pressing so close, so loud. He wants to take Ji’s hand, but he’s not supposed to do that; he’s Lord Shiba, he has to be strong, he has to be in control…

“Jayden!”

Antonio cannons into him from one side. Startled, Jayden automatically wraps his arms around him for balance and feels Ji grip his shoulders to keep him from falling.

“What are you doing?” Ji says sharply. “Let him go, now!”

“It’s Antonio,” Jayden says, letting go with a tiny push; Antonio obeys the silent command, backing away a step. Ji, Jayden is relieved to realise, is not letting go. “Mr Garcia’s son. Remember? They came to the House. Does your father work here, Antonio?”

“Yes! This way!” Antonio turns on his heel, plunging into the crowds. Jayden moves to follow him, momentarily brought up short by Ji’s grip until he gives in and follows.

With Ji’s touch grounding him, Jayden finds it easier to deal with the crowds. Mr Garcia is thrilled to see them again, even more when Ji gives in and buys some of the fish, and is very pleased to see Jayden and Antonio talking quietly. “Ah, see? Little boys, they should be friends! So easy for the young!” He beams as an idea occurs to him. “They should play together! It would be good for both of them! Antonio, he works too hard to help me. He should have more fun.”

“Jayden has many demands on his time,” Ji says stiffly. “I’m sure they’d have fun, but it’s simply not possible at the moment.”

“I want to,” Jayden protests, turning to look at Ji. It’s the first time he’s asked for anything for himself in years. “I can study in the evenings instead. Please, Ji? I promise I’ll work really hard! If I don’t, we can stop then!”

“I can help him work!” Antonio agrees. “It’ll be fun! Please, _papi?_ ”

Mr Garcia shakes his head; he looks angry, Jayden thinks, suddenly frightened. “No, Antonio, Mr Shiba doesn’t want you to play with his boy. It’s fine. Enjoy your fish, sir.”

Jayden stamps his foot. “No! I want to, and I’m _going_ to!”

“Jayden,” Ji hisses.

Jayden stomps across to glare at him. Quietly enough not to be overheard, he says, “I’m Lord Shiba, amn’t I? I want to play with him.”

Ji’s face twitches. Jayden thinks maybe he’s hiding a smile. “Very well,” he says with a mighty sigh. “But,” he says more loudly, “if your work suffers at all, I will end this. Understood, both of you?”

“Yes, sir!” the boys chorus, and dissolve into giggles.

Ji bows to Mr Garcia. “When would it suit you to bring your boy to the House? I can arrange for someone to collect him, if that’s better.”

Jayden lets the adults hash out the details, grinning at Antonio. Antonio grins back.

He does have to work harder to keep up, but it’s worth it. Antonio comes a couple of times a week; he joins in with Jayden’s practise, unless he’s doing symbols, and then he just amuses himself nearby. Sometimes he persuades Jayden to change what he’s doing slightly, though they’re always careful to make sure Ji is safely inside when they do that.

“I should be practising,” Jayden says uncertainly, eying the perfectly innocent plant in front of them.

“You are practising,” Antonio insists. “You’re still fighting, aren’t you?”

“I’m supposed to practise with the dummy, not the plant.”

“This is more fun.” He turns to look at the plant in sudden alarm. “Oh no! It’s attacking with its terrible vines!”

"It doesn't have vines, it's not that kind of plant."

"Jay _den!_ " Antonio scolds him. "Where's your imagination?"

Jayden wonders if there are Nighlok based on plants. He doesn't think so, but he wouldn't put it past Xandred...

Antonio slashes at the plant with his _shinai_. "Quick, before it gets away from us!"

Jayden almost points out that the plant can't possibly get away from them because it doesn't have any feet, but he catches himself. Taking a step away from Antonio, he lifts his _shinai_. "You block it on that side! I'll get it over here!"

Antonio cheers breathlessly. His form's still awful, but getting better; he pays attention when Jayden teaches him.

A minute later he declares the plant beaten. "We saved the world again!"

Jayden grins, sobering a moment later when Ji calls from inside "Jayden! Are you playing or practising?"

Antonio skips off to a corner where Ji won't see him. By the time Ji comes out onto the porch, Jayden is dutifully practising hits on the dummy.

As soon as Ji is gone, of course, Antonio reemerges to declare the dummy an evil villain. "It's a demon!" he says urgently. "And the Lightspeed Power Rangers aren't here!"

"There aren't any more demons, the Power Rangers stopped all of them," Jayden tells him, trying not to flinch at the lie.

"They missed this one," Antonio insists. "Come on! We have to stop it before it hurts someone!"

That game ends up with the dummy in pieces on the ground - quite how Antonio managed to snap the support beam, Jayden has no idea - and a stern scolding from Ji. He nearly sends Antonio away before Jayden points out that his father won’t be back for another couple of hours, and they can’t really leave him to wander around the woods on his own. Ji sighs, gives them both a snack and sends them to the furthest corner of the garden, where they can’t hurt anything.

Jayden only manages half his apple, fiddling anxiously with the stem. Antonio watches him warily without saying anything.

“You know the Power Rangers?” Jayden says finally.

“Yep. The Lightspeed Rangers, and the Lost Galaxy Rangers, and the Astro Rangers, and the…”

“Ok,” Jayden interrupts him.

“And maybe there’s a new team now, in Silver Hills, no one’s sure yet…”

“Antonio.”

“Yes?”

Jayden glances around to make sure Ji hasn’t snuck up behind him. “I’m going to be a Ranger,” he says quietly.

“Excellente! Can I be one too?”

“No, Antonio, really. I’m going to be the Red Ranger. That’s why I train all the time.”

Antonio stares at him. “…really?”

Jayden tells him all of it. Everything he knows. Everything apart from Lauren. He doesn’t really remember her anymore, but that doesn’t mean he wants to share her. He tells Antonio about the Nighlok, about symbol power and the vow his ancestor Hokato made that makes the Nighlok his responsibility.

“So they’re going to come sometime, and no one knows when,” he finishes, pulling absently at the nearest clump of weeds. “The other families, there’s still adults who can fight, but there’s only me. I have to be ready for it.”

Antonio frowns, watching him pull at the weeds. “How can I help you?”

“I don’t think you can,” he says weakly. “I just have to train all the time and be ready if I can be.”

“You can do it. I’ll help. C’mon, let’s go do more training right now.” He bounces to his feet.

“Antonio, wait!” Jayden scrambles to his feet. “You can’t tell anyone this! No one’s supposed to know about it. If Ji knows I told you…”

“I won’t tell, I promise.” Antonio grips his hand tightly. “I promise, Jayden. I won’t. But I can help you, can’t I?”

Jayden studies him for a moment before nodding. “Ok. Let’s go practise.”

Antonio works harder and fiercer after that, determined to learn enough to be able to help Jayden.

One evening, as Jayden is finishing up his symbol practise, Ji comes into Jayden’s room. “Jayden, I have something for you.”

“For me?” Jayden finishes off the last two symbols, turning to look at him.

Ji brings his hand from behind his back, revealing a folding zord. Jayden glances automatically at the lion, sitting on a corner of his desk. “What is…”

“The lion is the Shiba family’s main zord,” Ji tells him. “But there were several others. Most have been lost over the years. This is one of the few remaining ones.”

Jayden holds out a hand and the zord jumps out of Ji’s hand, floating above his head. It’s some sort of jellyfish or octopus, Jayden’s not really sure of the difference, shaded in blue and grey. “Hello,” he murmurs, letting it approach as it likes.

“Good,” Ji says quietly. “Get to know each other. You will be allies in the fight against the Nighlok.”

He leaves the room and Jayden sits down. The octopus floats over, hovering above the lion and extending a curious tentacle. The lion ignores him until he’s almost touching him, snapping idly. The octopus withdraws, floating around Jayden’s head. He grins. He can’t wait to show Antonio his new friend.

Antonio adores him. The octopus is a little shy, staying just out of reach. Antonio tirelessly tries to coax him over, offering him treats and playing games. Nothing ever works, but he doesn’t give up.

They’ve been playing together for a few months when Antonio turns up at the gate one morning. “Jayden! I found something really cool, come and see!”

“I’m not supposed to leave the grounds,” Jayden tells him. “Tell me about it.”

“No, that’s no fun! Come and see!”

“Antonio…”

“Come _on!_ We’re not going far. Can’t you leave a note for Ji?”

Jayden flushes. He’s managed to avoid practising reading and writing in English when Antonio’s around. “I really can’t go anywhere…”

Antonio catches his wrist and tugs. “Please?”

Jayden groans, pulling the lion from his pocket. “If Ji comes looking for me, come and find me, ok?” The lion roars delightedly, settling down just in front of the gate and curling up. Jayden follows Antonio out of the House into the woods.

They’re not heading for the town. That’s something, at least. Jayden tracks their path, making sure he can find the way back if he needs to. Antonio grins at him every minute or so, leading him confidently along a barely visible path. Occasionally it’s not visible at all, but Antonio never falters.

They stop on the edge of a high cliff. The forest continues below them, a carpet of green as far as Jayden can see. The sky above them is blue and clear.

Jayden stares at it for a long time. Antonio is silent beside him.

“You found this?” Jayden asks finally.

“Yep. I was walking up here yesterday. It’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing.” He sits carefully under a tree near the edge, safely back but still able to see the view. Antonio sits beside him, one leg dangling over the edge.

They talk for a long time. Jayden forgets most of it even as they’re talking about it. The words aren’t really important. When the lionzord scampers up to them, Jayden is surprised to realise they've been up here for several hours by the sun.

"Come on," he says, standing reluctantly. "We'd better –“

Ji steps onto the path.

"Ji," Jayden breathes. He's never seen Ji look so expressionless.

"It was me," Antonio says, scrambling to his feet, half in front of Jayden as though protecting him. "Jay didn't want to come up here, I talked him into it, it was all my idea. I did it."

Ji steps to one side, pointing back down towards the House. Jayden catches Antonio's hand, tugging him down the path. Ji stays behind them, silent but for the noise he makes when he walks. Jayden doesn't dare try to speak.

At the gates of the House Ji separates them – still completely silent – and hands Antonio over to one of the workers he uses for maintenance he can't manage himself. Jayden manages a reassuring smile as Antonio's hustled away, but nothing more than that.

Ji takes him inside, deposits him in his room and shuts the door. He doesn't speak.

Jayden doesn't dare try to leave. He paces unhappily for a while. Then he sits on the bed. Then he sits on the floor.

Ji opens the door, puts a tray on the floor just inside and closes the door again.

Jayden's not allowed to refuse food unless he's ill. He eats everything on the tray.

Ji doesn't come back.

Night falls, and Ji doesn’t come back.

Jayden goes to bed eventually. He sleeps badly – nightmares for the first time in a long time, though he doesn’t remember them any better than he ever did – but he doesn’t try to go to Ji, the way he would have if this had happened the day before.

He risks leaving his room at the usual time the next morning; Ji hasn’t appeared to tell him otherwise, and he judges it’s safer to go and start practise than wait to be told. He goes down to the kitchen. Ji’s dishes are in the sink, but there’s no sign of him. Jayden gets his breakfast, cleans everything up, and goes out to practise.

He’s been working for a while, ignoring Octozord’s attempts to distract him, when he hears a car outside. At the same time, Ji appears on the porch. “Antonio and his father are leaving Panorama City,” he says, not quite looking at Jayden, watching as Antonio slips in through the gate. “Say goodbye. You have two minutes.”

“What?” Jayden stares at him. That can’t be right, how can…

“Say goodbye,” Ji repeats, turning to go back inside.

Antonio’s already trying to catch the hovering Octozord. Jayden finishes the symbol he’s working on out of habit, sets his brush aside and goes to join him.

Neither of them speaks until a horn beeps outside; Antonio glances towards the gate. “That’s my dad. I’ve got to go. See you.”

“Wait!” For a moment Jayden’s not sure what he’s going to say, but then he realises. “I’ve got a going away present for you.” He holds out his hands to the Octozord, concentrating fiercely on what he wants; Antonio mimics him, hands out, and the Octozord settles in his hands.

_You belong to Antonio now. Watch over him and keep him safe._

“Won’t Ji be angry?” Antonio says, but his fingers have curled possessively around the zord.

“Don’t care,” Jayden says recklessly. “I’ll take care of him. I want you to have him.” He strokes the Octozord’s crest once. “Remember we’ll always be friends, no matter how far away we are from each other.”

Antonio grins. “Ok. I’ll keep training, and when you become Red Ranger, I’ll come back and be a Samurai too!” He lets go of Octozord, waves and runs to the gate.

Jayden watches until the gate closes. Then he goes back to his symbol practise.

Ji comes back out a little later to start him on his katas. Jayden does them by rote, still trying to figure out what's happened. Antonio hadn't said anything about leaving, and they shouldn't have sneaked out but surely sending him away isn't -

His ankle turns and he goes down hard. Caught off guard, he doesn't even have time to fall properly. The impact jars him badly.

Ji is there an instant later, trying to pick him up and check his ankle and look for other injuries all at once. Jayden bursts into tears. He doesn't know why - he wasn't hurt that badly - but he can't stop.

Ji picks him up and carries him inside, straps his ankle and checks for other injuries, brings him juice and sits next to him while he drinks it. He gives him a painkiller, too, and Jayden's dozing before he finishes the juice.

Ji starts talking. Jayden tries to listen, out of habit, but he's too far asleep. Ji's voice fades in and out.

_"...careful, Jayden..."_

_"...bear...lose you..."_

_"...safe..."_

Jayden sleeps.


	4. Chapter 4

Tanba is sick.

Lauren is fourteen, and Tanba is sick.

She doesn't know what to do.

He hasn't left his room in two days. She hasn't been able to get in since yesterday, symbol power barriers shimmering and blocking her path whenever she tries. Tanba talks to himself, on and off, but even when she understands the words the sentences don't make sense. She fiddles with her shodaphone, trying to decide what to do.

He stops talking.

He is silent.

She dials home.

She's already berating herself – what if Jayden picks up, what if someone somehow traces the call, what if they find her and it's all for nothing – when a man says briskly "Shiba House."

She recognises Ji's voice, she thinks, but the sheer shock of hearing another voice, a different voice, after so long, strikes her mute. She gapes at the phone.

"Hello?"

"Ji," she croaks out.

Ji is silent for a moment. "Hang up and do not call here again."

"Ji..."

"It's dangerous, I thought you understood that!"

"Tanba's sick," she blurts. "I don't know what to do. I think he's dying and I don't know what to do, Ji."

Silence for three heartbeats.

"Someone will be with you soon."

"Thank you," she breathes. "How is Jayden?"

The line disconnects.

Lauren is sitting huddled on the porch – she can’t stand the silence coming from Tanba’s room – when the wards suddenly lurch. She stands uncertainly. This isn’t anything she’s ever felt before.

“Ji sent us!” a man calls from down by the gate.

She goes close enough to see through the gate, far enough away that they can’t possibly reach her. Two men, and a woman, and she can’t see any of their faces.

Tanba is so silent.

She goes close enough to see them.

Her father’s team. Miss Watanabe smiles gently at her. “Lauren. Ji sent us to help you. Please let us in.”

“I don’t have the key.” She’s never had it, Tanba keeps it, she doesn’t know where it is. “Can you open it from that side?” She’s already running the wards through her mind, trying to make sure they won’t be harmed.

“Take a few steps back,” the Green says – she should remember his name, she knew his name, they lived together for a year and a half, what’s his _name? “Lauren._ Take a few steps back.”

The gate jumps on the hinges. There’s a cloud of dust. Lauren stares at it, still trying desperately to remember his name.

“Lauren,” Watanabe says gently. She moves to put a hand on Lauren’s shoulder; Lauren goes very still and she hesitates without touching her. “Where is Tanba?”

Lauren tells them. She tells them about the symbol power barrier, and that he’s been silent for a while now. The men vanish into the house and Watanabe stays beside her, still not touching.

“I don’t remember your names,” Lauren says abruptly. “I’m sorry. You’re Watanabe, but…”

“Tamara. It doesn’t matter, Lauren. Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.” She always eats, even when she doesn’t want to.

“Since you called Ji?”

“No.” She tried, but she was sick, and Tanba wasn’t there to force her.

Tanba wasn’t there.

She’s almost sick again.

Blue comes out of the house. Tamara goes to meet him; they talk quietly for a few moments. Lauren waits patiently, fingers laced neatly together in front of herself.

Tamara comes back to her. “Tanba is very ill,” she says. “He’s going to need to go away to be treated. I’ll stay with you.”

Lauren blinks. “You have children.”

“My children are with their father. Do you remember Mia? You met her once, during that first attack.”

“I remember.”

“And I may not stay with you forever. We will have to see what will happen. I don’t know if you know, I was injured during our War. I won’t be able to spar with you. But I can help you with your technique, and I was the best of our group at symbol power. I can certainly help you with that.”

“Thank you.” Lauren bows. She’s surprised to find that she’s trembling.

Tamara asks her to show her around the gardens; they don’t go far, because Tamara’s clearly having trouble walking on the uneven ground, but they’re out of sight of the front of the house. Lauren points at random things until Blue comes to tell them they can come back. He promises to come back in a few days, once he’s talked to Ji.

“How is Jayden?” Lauren asks, suddenly desperate to know.

“I’m sorry, Lauren, we didn’t see him,” Tamara says. “We came straight here. I’ve heard that he’s healthy, and learning well, but that’s all I can tell you.”

 _Healthy. Learning well._ It’s more than she’s had in the last six years. “Thank you,” she says, bowing.

“I’ll try and find out more,” Blue promises, “but I don’t know if I’ll see him.”

“Please don’t go to any trouble. Lady Watanabe has given me plenty.”

The two share a look Lauren can’t read. Blue takes his leave.

“You will have to tell me about your schedule and how you do things,” Tamara says, “but I think not tonight. If you will prepare a small meal, I will see about cleaning Tanba’s room at least a little. We’ll begin training together tomorrow.”

“I can clean his room,” Lauren offers. It seems unfair to make Tamara do it, even if she’s offered.

“No, dear,” Tamara says with a smile. “I’m not going to do anything in depth tonight. Go ahead and prepare something small.”

“Is there anything I should avoid for you?”

She shakes her head. “Whatever you prepare will be fine.”

She probably meant to be kind, but that doesn’t help Lauren at all. She stands in the kitchen, paralysed with indecision, for nearly ten minutes before she can make herself begin to cook. She makes pasta, in the end. It seems the least likely to upset Tamara.

She'd just gotten used to Tanba, learned how to behave. She hadn't had a punishment in two whole days before he fell ill. Now there'll be new rules to learn, new ways to behave, a whole new set of punishments. The thought of it makes her feel sick.

She's just finishing up when Tamara comes to join her, hands still damp from washing. "That looks great. Thank you, Lauren."

Lauren smiles, serves her, and waits until she starts eating to begin herself.

"Please don't go into Tanba's room for now," Tamara says. "I've cleaned the worst of it, but it needs more work. Is there another room I can use?"

"At the other end of the corridor. It's clean, but the bed's not made up. I can do that for you."

"I'll do it," Tamara says, smiling easily. "Eat up. You must be hungry."

Lauren obeys, forcing down forkful after forkful. It sits heavy in her stomach.

Tamara pushes her plate aside and Lauren follows suit thankfully. "That was very good. Thank you, Lauren. Please feel free to read, or however you usually relax. We won't start work until tomorrow."

Lauren gathers the plates and moves to wash them up, trying to figure out what that means. Is Tamara waiting to see what she'll do? Is she hoping Lauren will just go to sleep or something else that proves how lazy she is?

That won't happen. She finishes the dishes and starts towards the front door.

"Lauren?"

"I'm going to practise," she says.

"Not tonight, Lauren," Tamara tells her. "I understand you're anxious and upset, but working out is not the way to deal with that. Do something relaxing. Would you like a bath?"

A _bath?_ Unheard of, when a shower works just as well and far more quickly. "No, thank you..." Lauren hesitates. "Should I call you Sensei?"

"What did you call Tanba?"

"Tanba," she says blankly.

Tamara smiles, but she looks sad. "Well, I think _Watanabe_ is a little long and formal. What about _Tamara?_ "

"It's not polite," Lauren says automatically, and then quickly corrects herself "But if that's what you prefer..."

"Sensei is fine for now. If you'd like to call me Tamara, please do. I promise I won't think you're being impolite."

Lauren nods, but she knows she won't use _Tamara_. "I don't need a bath, thank you, Sensei. I would like to shower, though." She's changed her clothes since tending Tanba, but she didn't dare take a shower, and though she knows it's foolish she feels grimy, as though there's dirt ground into her skin.

"Go ahead," Sensei says. "And if you'd like to just go to bed when you're done, that's fine. You can stay up if you'd rather, but please nothing physical. You can read or listen to music."

"Yes, thank you."

For a moment she thinks Sensei might try to hug her, but the moment passes and she just nods. Lauren turns away and goes to the bathroom.

She throws up before she showers, but she cleans it all up, and she thinks maybe Sensei won't notice.

She's the first one up the next morning, but she's used to that. She makes coffee, sets it on the stove to keep warm, and then suddenly realises that maybe Sensei doesn't drink coffee. They don't have anything else, though, so she leaves it and goes outside to begin.

She’s been practising for an hour or so when Sensei comes from the house – carrying a cup of coffee, Lauren notes with relief. “Good morning, Lauren.”

“Good morning, Sensei.” Lauren doesn’t stop, flowing from one stance to the next.

“How long have you been out here?”

She can’t decide how to answer that. She goes with _honest_. “About an hour, Sensei.” She reaches the end of the kata and turns to face her.

“Are you up this early every morning?”

Lauren can’t read her face at all. “More or less.”

Sensei takes a sip of her coffee. “In future, I would prefer if you only practised when I’m here to supervise. If you’re awake and restless you can read, or walk in the gardens if the weather allows it. All right?”

Her tone is perfectly mild. Lauren nods, eyes down. “Yes, Sensei.”

“Good. Come inside now and eat, and then we’ll talk about your training.”

Breakfast is toast and fruit – “There doesn’t seem to be much here, I’ll have some brought” – and then they sit down to talk. Lauren doesn’t know the official names for anything she can do, so she can’t tell Sensei whether she can do them or not. The more she’s forced to say “I don’t know, Sensei,” the jumpier she gets. Sensei hasn’t even mentioned punishments yet. She must be saving them up.

After a while Sensei stops questioning her and takes her outside. “Start with the easiest katas you know,” she says, “and we will work from there. Half speed, please.”

They work through katas for the next couple of hours. They get through the first few easily enough, but as they move into more complicated ones Sensei keeps stopping Lauren. “Hold your wrist this way; it will improve your accuracy.” “Turn your foot this way a little; you’ll find it supports your weight better.” “Don’t extend quite so far; you’re vulnerable until you recover.” They’re small changes, and Lauren can already see the difference, but they add up. She finds it difficult to remember them all; muscle memory keeps pushing her back to the old way and she starts flagging far under her normal level.

“That will do for now,” Sensei says. “We will work at it. Come inside and clean up.”

Lauren nods obediently, turning towards the house.

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Sensei says suddenly, and she pauses. “The inside practise space doesn’t seem to have been used. Why is that?”

“Inside practise space?” Lauren says blankly. She didn’t know there was one. One of the rooms she was forbidden to enter, maybe.

Sensei frowns. “Where did you practise when it rained?”

“Outside, Sensei.”

“But when the weather wasn’t suitable?”

“Outside, Sensei,” Lauren repeats. She’s not really sure what the question is here.

“All the time?”

“Yes, Sensei.”

Sensei looks upset, but Lauren can’t quite figure out why. “Very well. Inside, please.”

After lunch they work on symbols. Here, at least, Lauren knows she’s skilled; mistakes mean that symbols fail, so she’s certain she’s getting it right. Sensei starts her on simple Shiba symbols and moves her upwards; as the symbols grow more complex she has Lauren just draw them without powering them.

When it seems that she’s going to stop, Lauren quietly tells her that she’s able to use symbols from the other Families as well. Sensei seems surprised, but she tells her to go ahead. Lauren starts with the easiest again and works upwards, going as slowly as she dares, delaying as much as possible the moment when they reach the Sealing Symbol.

“I can draw it perfectly,” she says when Sensei finally asks, “but I cannot cast it yet. Any attempts make me ill and weak for perhaps two days.” She has her eyes down, trying not to flinch from the expected punishment.

Sensei is silent for a moment. “You are fourteen, Lauren. Your father could not cast this symbol properly at thirty two.”

“I will learn it,” she says quickly. “I will, Sensei, I try my hardest…”

“I can see that you do. We have done enough work for today. You may practise drawing symbols for a while if you would like, but do not power them please. Dinner will be ready in one hour.”

Lauren nods, going to find paper and brushes. She settles herself in the living room, out of the kitchen where Sensei will presumably be working.

Sensei is on her phone outside. Lauren can’t hear the words, but the tone is clear; she is very, very angry. Lauren hunches over her pad. Obviously she is even worse than she’d thought.

Dinner is quiet and strained. Afterwards Sensei tells Lauren not to do any more work and releases her for the evening. Lauren goes back to her room and continues to work on the symbols. She can stop quickly enough if Sensei comes near the room, and she needs to improve badly.

She does sleep a little. It’s plenty enough, considering how used she is to functioning on little sleep. She’s back practising again when Sensei knocks on her door to call her to breakfast.

The morning goes much the same as the day before; Lauren seems to have forgotten most of yesterday’s corrections, and though Sensei simply corrects her each time she knows that won’t last. She has to learn, she has to learn quickly.

They stop for lunch a little earlier today; Lauren has frustrated herself into a complete mess, unable to recall even the simplest katas. Sensei doesn’t seem angry, and Lauren can’t stand it any more. She wants to get it _over_ with.

She hesitates in the kitchen doorway; Sensei is shaking her head at the contents of the fridge. “Sensei?”

“Lauren! Don’t worry, we should be getting supplies in today sometime.”

“Sensei…”

Sensei abandons the fridge, taking Lauren’s arm to draw her into the room. “You’re trembling, Lauren. What’s wrong?”

“When are you going –“ Lauren’s voice fails her and she swallows convulsively.

“When am I going what?” Sensei asks carefully.

Lauren forces out ‘punish’.

“Punish? Punish you? What for?”

“Mistakes.” Now that she’s past that word, she finds it easier. “I made all those mistakes, I’ve been wrong – I called Ji and I know that’s not allowed…”

“You saved Tanba’s life,” Sensei says, watching her carefully. “The no contact rule was meant to protect both of you, and Jayden and Ji, and you protected Tanba by getting him help when you knew you couldn’t help him. You did the right thing.”

Lauren turns that idea over in her mind several times, trying to understand it. After a moment she abandons it; it doesn’t make any sense to her. “But the mistakes?”

“Mistakes help us to learn. I can see how hard you are working to learn, and if anything the fault lies with Tanba for not correcting your form before this.”

Lauren immediately rejects the idea that Tanba was wrong; she just can’t parse it. Sensei must have seen it, because she goes on, “You are working very hard and so long as you do that, there will not be punishment. Do you understand?”

“No,” Lauren says honestly. “You’ve had to correct me so many times, even just today, how can that not be…”

“Tanba had rules, yes?” Sensei asks. “He decided when you needed to be punished?”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“I have rules. My rules say that you do not need punishment. If you do something that requires punishment, I will explain what you have done before I punish you. Do you understand that?”

That, she can follow. Of course Sensei has her own rules; it was foolish to think that she could apply Tanba’s rules to her. “Yes, Sensei.”

“Good. That’s very good, Lauren. I know that we did symbols yesterday afternoon, but today I want to keep working on your katas. We’re going to start very early and try and catch some of those habits on the shorter routines. All right?”

“Yes, Sensei.”

Sensei studies her for a moment. “Here is a rule,” she announces. “If you aren’t able to practise, if you’re hurt or unwell, I want to know about it. Keeping you healthy is very important. Understand?”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“Good. Come and eat, now. We should have more food by dinner time.”

Lauren eats obediently, rests for the half hour or so Sensei gives her, and then they start going through very simple katas. Lauren finds that it helps; the katas are shorter and simpler and it’s easier to keep the new movements in her mind.

Sensei asks her to stop when the Blue arrives with the food delivery. Lauren asks permission to meditate, tells her where the pond is and goes down there. She hasn’t been into the water for a while – she can swim, now, and Tanba has suspended her lessons – but it’s still a good spot to meditate, calm and sheltered, pretty and peaceful. She kneels in _seiza_ and focuses on her breathing, calming, slowing.

The wards tell her when Sensei is approaching, but she’s still not quite back to herself. Sensei doesn’t seem to mind, settling beside her and studying the view while Lauren slowly rises back to herself.

“We will work on your meditation,” Sensei says, when Lauren is fully aware again. “Rising so slowly is dangerous. Tanba should have taught you better.”

“He didn’t meditate, Sensei,” Lauren tells her, “I have only what I remember from Ji.”

“We’ll work on that. Did it help?”

“Yes, thank you, Sensei.”

“Good. Come along. Dinner will soon be ready.”

It takes a long time – months, Lauren learns; Sensei has begun to tell her the date each day – but eventually Lauren learns the new movements well enough to apply them to her more advanced katas. Sensei proclaims her pride in Lauren’s work. They haven’t done much work with symbols in that time, but now Sensei starts those lessons up again, focusing on growing Lauren’s power and control.

Blue and Green arrive early in March. Sensei doesn’t seem surprised – she must have been expected them – but Lauren is, and she’s more surprised when Sensei leads her into the inside dojo. It’s been decorated with streamers and balloons and there’s a couple of presents on a table.

“Happy birthday, Lauren,” Sensei says, and the two men echo her cheerfully. “Lisa wanted to come, but she couldn’t.” _Lisa_ , Lauren thinks; her father’s Yellow, two daughters roughly the same age as Lauren and Jayden.

“Birthday?” she says belatedly.

“Haven’t you had any birthday parties?” Green asks. _Aaron_ , she remembers abruptly, and Blue is _Brian_.

“Not while I’ve been here, sir. It would be a waste of practise time.”

The adults all look at each other. Lauren waits patiently.

“Well, how’s this,” Sensei says after a moment. “We’ll have a little party, and then you can spar with Brian and Aaron. That will be more helpful to you than another afternoon of katas. Does that seem fair?”

She keeps doing that, asking for Lauren’s opinion on things, as though it matters. “Very fair, Sensei,” Lauren says politely. Looking around the room, she adds, “What shall we do?”

“I think we can skip the party games,” Sensei decides. “Open your gifts, and we’ll eat something, and then you can rest a little before sparring. All right? It won’t take long at all.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Lauren crosses to the table and studies the parcels there.

“Here.” Brian picks one up and hands it to her. “Don’t tell Ji you have this, he’ll chop my hands off.” She looks at him, a little alarmed, and he grins. “Not really, no. Go ahead.”

She peels the paper carefully off the square package and uncovers a photo frame. She’s holding it face down, and for a long moment she can’t bring herself to turn it over.

“It’s not a great shot, I’m sorry,” Brian says, “I had to time it when Ji wasn’t looking.”

Sensei carefully slides it from her hand, turns it over and slides it back. Lauren takes a deep breath, looking down. Jayden is standing listening to Ji, _shinai_ thrown casually over his shoulder. He’s…amazing.

There’s a pressure she barely remembers behind her eyes.

The other presents are less exciting, but they’re also not particularly useful. Aaron has given her a set of six books about a wizard; he tells her that there’s one more in the series, but it hasn’t been released yet, and promises to get it for her when it comes out. Sensei has given her a set of comfortable, pretty clothes, far too loose to practise in. Lisa has sent a package of homemade fudge. Lauren shares it around with the adults, enjoying the sweet, crumbly treat.

There’s cake, and ice cream. Lauren mostly eats what she’s given while the adults chat overhead. After a few minutes the sweet food makes her feel sick and she pushes her bowl away.

“Is something wrong?” Sensei asks her.

“No, Sensei, I have enough, thank you.”

Brian starts to say something. Aaron elbows him in the ribs.

“Very well,” Sensei agrees. “You may go and rest for half an hour, and then Brian will be ready to spar with you.”

Lauren nods, carefully gathering up her gifts. “Thank you all very much for my party.”

“You’re very welcome, Lauren,” Aaron answers.

Back in her room, Lauren studies the picture of Jayden for a long time, drinking in his appearance, before she sets it aside and picks up the first of the wizard books.

Sparring with Brian is eye opening. She is technically almost his equal, but fighting an actual opponent is completely different than running through katas, and he beats her eight out of ten rounds. Each time, though, he immediately walks her through exactly what went wrong and how she can beat him the next time, praising her efforts and how quickly she’s picking up his instructions. Sparring with Aaron goes a little better; he only beats her six out of ten times.

Afterwards, when the men have taken their leave and it’s just Lauren and Sensei, Sensei sits her down. “Aaron is going to come and stay with us for a while,” she says, “to keep sparring with you. Your symbols need very little work now; you only need to increase your power, and that will come in time. We need to focus on your fighting skills, and I can’t help there.”

Lauren nods slowly. “Are you leaving, Sensei?”

“For a short time; a few days, to see my children. Aaron will take care of you, and I’ll be back.”

“You should stay with your children.” She doesn’t want that; she’s used to Sensei, now, understands the rules. Another new set to learn seems like too much.

Sensei smiles. “I am where I’m needed. I’ll be back.”

“What is wrong with Lisa?” Lauren asks abruptly.

“What?”

“You said she couldn’t come.”

Sensei nods slowly. “Lisa’s oldest daughter is ill. She is in the care of some excellent doctors; Ji has made every effort to help her. But she did not feel she could take time away.”

“Of course not,” Lauren agrees. “Please let her know that I hope…” She stalls for a moment before remembering “Serena, I hope Serena recovers quickly.”

Sensei smiles. “I will. You’re released for the evening, Lauren. Aaron will be here about lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She goes upstairs, practises symbols for a little while and then reads some more. The book is surprisingly interesting.

Living with Aaron is strange. The first thing he says, after Sensei leaves, is that his own daughter is much younger than Lauren, so he’s not very used to girls, and if she needs anything she must tell him. Lauren dutifully promises, though she’s not sure what she might need to ask for.

She calls him Sensei for a while, but that feels odd; she has a Sensei. He suggests _Aaron_ , but she can’t use that any more than she could _Tamara_. They settle on _Fuji-san_ , which is formal enough for her and casual enough for him.

Fuji-san is a good trainer, and having someone to practise against makes a huge difference, but he doesn’t seem inclined to push her, always willing to stop when she seems the slightest bit winded. She learns to hide the weaknesses she’d just begun to feel comfortable showing Sensei just so she can practise for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Fuji-san is meant to stay for five days.

On the third day, Lauren wakes up to blood on her sheets.

It takes her a couple of minutes to find where she’s bleeding from, and then she’s just confused. That doesn’t make any sense.

She’s in the middle of stripping her sheets when Fuji-san knocks on her door to call her for breakfast. She answers too quickly, panic colouring her tone, and he opens the door.

“I don’t know what happened,” she says, eyes down.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll wash them. Have you taken care of things?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you need supplies?”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Fuji-san.”

He studies her for a moment before something occurs to him. “No one has spoken to you about puberty?”

“No, Fuji-san.” She doesn’t even know the word.

“I see. Very well. I will arrange for supplies. For now, please go to the bathroom and place some toilet paper to contain the blood.” He touches her shoulder, slightly awkward. “You are not in any danger. I promise I will explain. Go to the bathroom and then come to breakfast. Make sure you wash your hands very well.”

He’s hanging up the phone when she comes into the kitchen. They eat in slightly strained silence, and then he clears away, sits back down, and explains in general terms what’s going on. Lauren takes in very little of it, but he doesn’t seem surprised. He sends her to run through her katas alone, which she appreciates; it’s calming to her.

A little before lunch Lisa arrives with a parcel. She doesn’t stay long, only long enough to talk Lauren through what she’s brought and give her a book to read. It’s not as much fun as the wizard ones, but Lauren obediently reads all the way through it and makes sure to ask Lisa anything she doesn’t understand.

“How is Serena?” she asks as Lisa is getting ready to go.

Lisa’s smile dims a little. “There are no results yet from her tests.”

“Is Ji making sure you get everything you need?”

“He has been very conscientious,” Lisa promises.

“Good. And…” She has to think about it, and it bothers her. “Emily?”

“Emily is fine. She worries about Serena, but she’s fine.”

“Please make sure that – if there is anything that would cheer her up, toys or books…”

“There…” Lisa shakes her head. “You’re very kind, Lauren. Thank you.”

“There, what?”

“She plays flute,” Lisa says quickly, as though trying to get it out before being interrupted. “We had to take her out of her music class, because we couldn’t often get her to it, we were always with Serena. Emily doesn’t complain, she’s a sweet girl, but I know she misses it.”

Lauren nods thoughtfully. “Fuji-san?”

He leans out of the kitchen. “Yes, Lauren?”

“When you speak with Ji, please ask him to see if a teacher can be found to go to the Takenaka home for Emily.”

“Yes, Lauren,” he agrees.

Lauren almost attacks Lisa when she lunges at her; she holds herself still long enough to relax Lisa is hugging her, not attacking her, but it takes longer to remember to hug her back and Lisa is already drawing away before she moves. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Lauren,” she says instinctively. “And please, don’t tell Emily. Let her think you’ve done it for her.”

“As you like.” Lisa bows, formally. Lauren returns the bow, watching as the woman walks away.

“You may do as you like for today, Lauren,” Fuji-san tells her. “If you require painkillers, please let me know.”

“Yes, Fuji-san.”

She doesn’t ask for painkillers. She’s worked through far worse pain than this. Working through her katas helps, she discovers. In the evening, Fuji-san brings her a heat pad, and that helps too, she discovers.

The next day things go back to normal. She beats Fuji-san eight times out of ten.

The day after that, Sensei returns.

She talks with Fuji-san for a while, while Lauren determinedly practises the Symbol. After a time Sensei comes to join her.

“How are Mia and Terry?” she asks. She’d had to work for ten minutes to remember the names.

“They’re very well, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Sensei.”

"I'm sorry that I hadn't told you. It must have been upsetting for you. I'd assumed that Tanba would tell you when you reached the right age. Clearly a foolish belief."

"It doesn't matter, Sensei. I'm only sorry Lisa had to leave Serena."

"I heard that you ordered a music teacher for Emily. That was very kind of you."

"It just seemed fair."

Sensei touches her arm, startling her into looking up. They don't touch casually; only to correct posture or check injuries, and this is neither. "You're very kind, Lauren. You'll be a good Lady Shiba."

"Thank you, Sensei."

She smiles, but Lauren thinks she's sad. Maybe she misses her children. "I would like you to spar with Aaron once more, please, so that I can see how you're doing."

"Yes, Sensei." Lauren starts stretching. Sensei likes her to do that before practise. She's not sure why; Tanba never did.

In the quiet, secret places in her mind, she's starting to think that maybe Tanba was wrong about some things.

She defeats Fuji-san. He grins at her, congratulates her. Sensei looks proud.

Tanba would have berated her.

Things are different now.

Lauren smiles back.


	5. Chapter 5

The days after Xandred's defeat are odd and unstructured, people coming and going, no one making more than a half-hearted effort to train. Lauren mostly sticks to the routine she knows. She thinks Jayden's trying to do that, too, but the others keep interrupting him on one pretext or another. They've been trying to include her – especially the girls – but she's politely refused their overtures so far. She likes them well enough, this team, but they're Jayden's, not hers. And they're all so painfully _young._

She slides into a slower, more meditative kata to finish her training with. She does this whenever she can. It's calming, when so much is changing around her, all the time.

Halfway through, she becomes aware that Mia is watching her. She keeps going. Mia won't interrupt unless it's important, and she seems content to watch right now.

The kata slows even more, taking on the air of a ritual dance. Lauren manoeuvres herself closer to Mia. "Good morning."

"Morning," Mia says pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm very well, thank you." Magical exhaustion had kept her down for a day after creating the disk for Jayden, but no more than that; she has worked through far worse than this, and Ji will not challenge her the way Sensei would. "I've been meaning to ask, how is Terry?"

Mia smiles delightedly. "He got into med school. He starts in the fall."

"A doctor. That's amazing. You must be so proud."

Mia doesn't answer; Lauren glances over to see her watching, head tilted to one side. "Mia?"

"Oh! Sorry. Yes, I'm very proud of him. He worked very hard. Just as hard as we did, I think, in his way."

"What's wrong?" Lauren shifts into the last pose, holds it for a moment, and disengages slowly.

"Nothing's wrong," Mia assures her. "Just – you reminded me of my mother, for a moment, the way you were moving. I'm sure it's just the kata. I must have seen her do it when I was young."

Lauren smiles faintly, remembering hours spent under Sensei's patient tutelage. _'A little more this way, Lauren – turn your wrist like so – weight on this side – beautiful. Well done.'_ "I wanted to apologise to you."

"Apologise to me?" Mia says, startled. "What for?"

Lauren steps around her to the bench, wiping her face quickly with the towel. "For keeping her from you for so long."

"I don't understand?"

"You were – thirteen or so, I guess, when she left? And she’s stayed gone ever since. Visits home. Not enough, I'd have sent her more often, but..."

"She was with you?" Mia says in surprise.

Lauren blinks. "Of course, you didn't know. How could you? Yes. That year, my mentor became very ill. Ji sent your mother, and Kevin and Mike's fathers, to help me. Your mother stayed with me as my trainer. I wanted to look for someone outside my father's team, someone who didn't have children to miss them, but – I _needed_ the experience they had of actually fighting Xandred. I'm sorry for that." She frowns. "What did she tell you?"

"That she was doing something important, that we'd understand one day, to keep practising and behave. That she loved us." She smiles ruefully. "I think Terry took it harder. He missed her very much."

"I'm sorry," Lauren repeats.

Mia shakes her head quickly. "No, don't – I'm glad that you had her. She must have been a good trainer. You're amazing."

"Fuji-san used to come to spar with me, and to stay when your mother went home. But she helped me so much with my symbol power. I don't think I could have managed the Disk for Jayden without her training. So she helped us save the world."

Mia smiles. There are tears in her eyes. "May I tell Terry this?"

"You can tell him what I've told you so far, but I would like what I'm about to say to stay between us, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," Mia says quickly. "You can tell me anything you'd like."

Lauren sits, drawing Mia down with her. This way, she can look across the garden without making it obvious that she's avoiding looking at her. "My mentor – he was..." She considers for a few moments. "Not good," she decides finally. "I mean, technically, he was very skilled. I improved very much under his tutelage. Because I was afraid not to." Mia goes very still. Lauren doesn't look at her. "I was eight when I came into his care. I didn't – understand. That he shouldn't – that it was the wrong way. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Mia whispers.

Lauren doesn't look at her. She doesn't dare. Ji must know this, she knows Sensei and the others were reporting to him, but she doesn't think Jayden does. She doesn't plan to tell him, or anyone else. But Mia deserves this.

"When your mother came, I was scared. I understood Tanba. I knew his rules, I knew how to avoid the worst punishments, what would make him angrier and what might satisfy him – I didn't know those things for your mother, and I hated the thought of trying to learn all over again. It seemed so hard. And then she didn't punish me, and she didn't punish me, and she was kind and patient even when I was – well, I never misbehaved, but I was – not so polite as I might have been, not so welcoming. Your mother was so good, all the time. She helped me to see that Tanba had been wrong, just by being right. I should have sent her to you more often, but I was selfish, and afraid that if I let her go Tanba would come back. Even when she swore he would never return, I was afraid. And – I wanted her with me. My mother died, but I could pretend, a little – I'm sorry. You deserve better from your clan head, and I am _sorry_."

Mia is silent for several minutes. Lauren lets her, waiting.

She expects an outburst. She expects anger. She wouldn't be surprised by violence, and she has already promised herself she will not fight back. She essentially stole six years Mia might have spent with her mother. There is no way to repay that.

"Lauren," Mia says finally.

Lauren bows her head. "Yes."

"I'm going to hug you," Mia says gently. "All right?"

Lauren frowns, head still bowed. "As you like."

Mia half chokes on a sob, wrapping her arms around Lauren. "I'm not angry," she says quietly, directly into Lauren's ear. "At least, not at you, and not at her. I'm so sorry that you went through something like that, and I'm so proud that my mom was able to help you. If you needed her for ten more years, that would still be fine with me." She lets go just a little, draws back enough to catch Lauren's eye. "This makes us sisters, you realise."

Lauren blinks. "She's your mother."

"She's yours too, just as much as me and Terry. I'd be proud to share her with you. Please?"

"And Jayden?"

"And Jayden too, yes."

"He said that. That you were like brothers and sisters to him. I was glad. I didn't want him to be alone."

"I don't want you to be alone. Share my mom with me?"

"All right," Lauren surrenders. "Thank you." She doesn't imagine it will mean much; she'll be living here, after all, and Sensei will be at her own home.

Mia leans back into the hug. Lauren holds on.

"All right," Mia says finally, letting go. "Change your clothes and wash your face and let's go."

"Go where?" Lauren asks, startled.

"I'm going to find Emily and we're going to go shopping. You only have two changes of clothes. That's a crime against clothes."

"Your mother bought me these," Lauren protests.

"You don't have to get rid of them. But you need some more, and we need a girly afternoon away from the others. Come on. I promise we'll stop if it's too much, ok?"

"All right," Lauren says. It does sort of sound fun, if they can stop when she wants to.

"Good. Let's go, sis."

She gives in and laughs as she follows Mia back towards the house.


End file.
